A Half-Finished Letter

Scribe’s note: I discovered this half-written letter while clearing the quarters of our former Potentate. Should we keep it, or should it be destroyed together with his other belongings after the funeral?

Dear Elenwen,

I hope you have been well. It has been ages since we last sat down together and were able to debate philosophy and politics over a decent meal.

It seems that you have done well for yourself. Your rise through the ranks of the Thalmor is meteoric. As your former mentor, and hopefully a person of some standing who you might consider worth listening to, I should perhaps add a word of caution about the brand of politics currently practised by them. While the core tenets of Thalmor preaching – Altmeri independence and resurgence in the face of the Oblivion Crisis – are proud and acceptable goals, I am concerned that these ideals have vagaries that are open to abuse. We are proud Altmeri, and in upholding our Altmeri heritage we must also bear in mind that moral fortitude and a noblesse oblige to the other races of Tamriel are core to this identity.

But it is not my intention today to convince you, rightly or wrongly, against the principles and politics you clearly hold dear. In your last letter to me you spoke about some of the lost spells from the days since the Oblivion Crisis, and the standardisation of magickal education. I have scoured my memories and rummaged through my letters, and I believe that I can recollect for you with some certainty a reason for this.

I recall that, after the Oblivion Crisis, I was approached by one Gaston Leland. He was a battlemage in the service of the Empire, a decorated soldier who fought in many battles during the invasion. He was also acerbic, abrasive and a difficult, friendless Breton. However, he was also a man of some vision. He wrote many letters to me to request an audience about an idea he had. My duties made it difficult for me to prioritise a political nobody, but he was dogged and thus we met over a coffee in a café in the Imperial city.

At this meeting, with sharp and extremely lucid points, Leland outlined to me a syllabus for educating new mages. This syllabus focused on practical spells without a need for deep learning or magicka investment, and could be taught by an experienced instructor in a short time with little effort. He even had plans to write manuals for these spells, which could be easily consumed by a novice mage and then cast (provided he or she had sufficient magicka to do so).

I was intrigued, and I remember my mind racing excitedly at the implications. There were great difficulties during the daedric invasion, when we simply did not have enough mages to assist in the battles. Leland’s suggestion presented a pragmatic way for the Empire to train many with basic spells of great utility. This would come at the price of versatility and flexibility, but this was a small price to pay at the time. After our meeting, I had a committee convened to look into Leland’s proposal. The committee was headed by Leland, and from all accounts he was a difficult person to work with. But he produced results, and by the end of three years I had basic soldiers able to channel spells of Flames, Frostbite and Sparks with little effort.

In hindsight, this idea has perhaps worked too well. Experimentation and discovery of new spells have given way to rote learning of the same incantations. With the decline of the Mages Guild’s influence over time, I worry that we will end up in an era where mages in Cyrodil, High Rock or Skyrim all know the same spells, with little or no variation…

[The letter ends here.]